Cold
by ElfGirl4
Summary: Surely he had never met this person before, it seemed impossible that he would have ignored such a figure of temptation. The way she tilted her hips and fiddled with her hair seemed vaguely familiar, but he could not place who might have done that. DracoH


_**I don't own any of these characters. I only own the plot. So please, don't jack it. **_

_**A/N:** So a little thing called life rolls around and takes over sometimes… and during those times, I tend to forget things. I.E… what little, itsy details happened during the fifth and sixth books. If I've messed up something, tell me – but don't yell at me. I've got other things to worry about, and I'm trying to read them again… but nobody's perfect. I've actually got a life I need to attend to. Also – this takes place during their seventh year at Hogwarts. There's a lot of things that I've just chosen to ignore (because when I first wrote this story, the fourth book was all that was out), so just go with the flow. Think… like… life in book four being expanded to book seven. No gallivanting to defeat Voldemort right now. Nothing's happened to Dumbledore. Things are mostly peachy. It'll make sense. I promise. And – Hermione may seem like she's just an object – it's not how the story rolls, that will change. I just needed to illustrate a point. That's all – review, please. It's wonderful encouragement for me._

OOOOO

"You know what? I think I've heard one too many stories about what you two've done with George and Fred's stuff from the shop. I'm going to powder my nose," Hermione sniffed at Ron and Harry, who still had tears of laughter glimmering in the corners of their eyes.

"Powder your nose? Honestly, who the _Hell_ are you and what did you do with Hermione?" Ron asked her as he tried to keep a straight-face; a hard task for him, as his sugar high was not going down anytime soon.

"Oh, sod off, Ron. Just because I'm prettier than you doesn't mean you have to give me flack for it." She smiled brightly at him as she got up. She bent down a little and stretched her jeans towards her peep-toed pumps. The legs of her pants were slightly too slim and tended to ride up on her calves a little as she sat down.

"You want me to come with, 'Mione?" Ginny asked, peeling a chocolate frog out of its wrapper.

"Nah, it's okay – I think I can find my way to the loo without too much hassle." Hermione looked over at Ron and Harry from her position near the floor.

It was apparent that they were both blatantly trying to get a better view.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and Ginny dutifully smacked her older brother on the arm. "Hey! I won't have you getting all hot and bothered here in the compartment. We still have another two hours to go. I'm not dealing with…" Ginny paused, "_boys_ and their… _Stop_ looking!" Ron earned another smack.

The whole scene was enough to send Hermione into a high-pitched peal of laughter as she exited the car into the aisle. She let the door close quietly behind her and the sound of Ginny berating the boys grew fainter. Walking down the narrow walkway, Hermione could not help but like a different person. She could not quite put her finger on what made the change, but she doubted that people could ignore her any longer.

OOOOO

There were too many incidents in which Hermione Granger was thought of as a prudish bookworm, and in the summer before her seventh year she decided to do something about it. Life was too short to be left in the dark libraries of the world, all alone with bunchy sweaters and unflattering jeans. After a particularly rough day hanging out with a few of her neighborhood Muggle friends, Hermione decided to take some of her saved allowances and venture into a shopping mall. She soon realized that the problem was not that she did not have taste; rather it was that she had not cared up until that moment. She went home, more than her fair share of shopping bags littered across her room, and started trying her new things on. She discovered the joys of a few well-placed accessories, the wonder of skinny jeans, and the magnificence of shoes. A new age had dawned for Hermione, and she was excited to step into it – in a pair of peep-toed pumps, of course.

OOOOO

When she arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place in the middle of the summer, the reaction she received was much to her liking. There was nothing quite like the expression of boys who had seen naught but their little sister and their mother for days. Hermione distinctly remembered the suave and debonair act that Fred and George had put on for her once they had gotten over their initial shock of seeing Hermione as someone other than Ron and Harry's know-it-all, sometimes-rather-helpful, tag-along friend. She had turned into someone positively ripe to shag.

Ron had a difficult time keeping his mouth from hanging open when he first saw Hermione. The tension between them had been no secret, and recently it had mounted into something beyond measure. It was the first time after Ron had seen Hermione initially made-up for the Yule Ball their fourth year that he had been rendered completely speechless. It had turned out that she was no longer just Hermione, but a rather well-proportioned girl.

Harry was a tad more reserved when he saw her as he just stepped into the doorway of the Black household. He gave her a quick once-over and stepped in for a rather enormous, tight, and drawn-out hug, taking keen note of how much she had filled out. "I missed you guys so much…" he said, looking at everyone before focusing on Hermione and stating, "You look amazing, Hermione." He earned a beet-red glare from Ron for that verbalization.

The women of the household thought Hermione looked ravishing as well, and it was odd that Hermione didn't feel any tension coming from Ginny. Hermione supposed it was probably because the only boys in the household their age were Ginny's brothers, and Ginny fortunately did not swing that way.

There were times when Hermione would sit on her bed looking out the window, and she thought things were looking up for her. Maybe this year, some whirlwind romance would sweep her off her feet and she would finally have a little more fun. This was her last year, after all. But the more she thought about it, the more Hermione realized that romance and courtship were not what she wanted. She wanted something hot and delicious, tempting and succulent.

Although Ron was could be very agreeable and pleasant to look at sometimes, Hermione decided that he was most definitely not succulent. It took several weeks for her to convey her thoughts to him, and he spent a few days taking it quite hard before he realized that though she did not want a relationship with him, it did not mean she would not reap any benefits. Occasional trips to the upstairs bathroom with begging bodies and imploring hands were quite fine with Ron.

OOOOO

The door to the women's restroom indicated that it was occupied, so Hermione patiently stood outside the door with her back facing the aisle. She cocked her hips to one side and put all her weight there, accentuating the length she got on her legs from her heels. Absentmindedly, she started scrunching her hair in a hand, trying to keep her curls from congregating into a huge bush. She had gotten her hair trimmed slightly, and finally learned how to master a bit of styling gel and a curling iron over the summer. It was no use actually trying to straighten her hair, so she opted towards accentuating the natural waviness her hair had by curling it. The effect was something along the lines of what her Muggle magazines had called _soft, romantic curls_. She certainly had hoped they looked like that, as all these years with a bird-nest on her head definitely needed some making up for.

Hermione was so absorbed in the silky softness of her freshly conditioned hair, that she did not notice the tall, pallid figure swoop in behind her.

He too, was going to take a trip to the loo but suddenly became sidetracked as he saw this new student waiting in line for her own room. Surely he had never met this person before, it seemed impossible that he would have ignored such a figure of temptation. The way she tilted her hips and fiddled with her hair seemed vaguely familiar, but he could not place who might have done that. Either way, he found it to be inviting and decided to introduce himself.

He walked up behind her quietly, so as not to make his presence known. He reached out his slender fingers and ever-so-slightly pressed them to the back pocket of her pants, silently marveling her shapeliness. "Hello there, lovely. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting," he drawled into her ear.

Hermione's eyes widened as she instinctually turned on her heel and sent her hand harshly into contact with his cheek. She wondered vaguely if she should have been relieved or disappointed that she had some rings on her other hand. Surely a boy with such cheek would deserve a few marks from her rings on his face. But before she had time to think anymore, the boy's face fully registered in her mind.

"_You_," was all she could muster saying.

She was greeted with a devilish smirk. "Granger, my, my. What _have_ you been doing to yourself all these years to suppress _this_?" He chuckled lowly, completely ignoring the burning sensation in his cheek, and the dull throb in his temple.

Hermione rolled her eyes before turning back to wait for the restroom to free up. She wondered what the Hell could have occupied someone for that long when the train hit a bump and she heard the distinct cursing of a boy and a girl from inside the loo. "Oh for Merlin's sake," she thought with irritation. She turned to head back to her compartment, and was once again met by silvery eyes leering down at her.

"I suppose you know I'm Head Boy, right? You would, wouldn't you." It was merely a statement. "And of course you're Head Girl." He chuckled once more, only this time it seemed more sinister. "Head Girl… I wonder, is the title purely perfunctory…? Or does it imply you're good at something _else_? Might Potty and Weasel be able to tell me?" He quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Hermione's eyes turned icily cold as she shouldered into him roughly, passing him in the aisle. "_Fuck_ you, Malfoy."

From behind, Hermione heard him retort bemusedly and loud enough for her to hear. "Precisely my point, Granger."


End file.
